


Aftermath

by Athos of Trevilles boudoir (Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson)



Series: Thantophobia (& Sequels) [2]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Drowning, M/M, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 17:03:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3257615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson/pseuds/Athos%20of%20Trevilles%20boudoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone commented a whole new plot line on Thantophobia and I decided to make this sequel from it. It's much longer than the original work, oops.</p>
<p>	No one ever said it would be easy to recover.<br/>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3248369">Thantophobia</a><br/>Set three months later</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

Aramis stared down at the earth beneath his feet, staring at the black marble headstone. All of them had chipped in; even Anne had donated a small fortune to it. After all, she was the reason he was injured. Porthos had been merely trying to save the Queen and the dauphin and it had ended in death. Because of Aramis.

 

Aramis had fired the shot, hoping to shoot the Queen’s captor. He didn’t take into account he might move; which he of course did.

 

And the bullet had torn through Porthos stomach and liver and had killed the man. His man. His lover.

 

He supposed, it was true. Everyone he loved died at some point, but this was the worst by far.

 

He was the reason that Porthos was gone. Tears welled up as he clenched his jaw shut, determined not to let them fall. He'd shed enough tears over the past few hours, probably enough to water a small rose garden. Yet still one or two tracked their way down his cheeks. A soft inhalation of breath and he wiped his hands across his face, making sure all signs of crying were gone. His landlady would be beside herself otherwise.

 

Aramis cleared his throat and stood, only to let out a soft yell as a hand dropped onto his shoulder. He spun round to see Athos, a crooked smile – half smile, half frown – on his face.

 

"Treville sent me to get you. It's been three months... Bereavement leave is over. Time to come back to work...”  


//  
  
Aramis was sat with d'Artagnan in silence as they watched Athos training a new recruit. Aramis was chewing away at a slice of bread; d'Artagnan's eyes weren't leaving the action in front of them. Aramis caught d'Artagnan smiling softly and looked a little closely. Was it his imagination or was d'Artagnan staring at Athos' backside? The younger looked up at Aramis and blushed, looking away.

 

"So, how have you been?"

 

Aramis shrugged and turned his attention to the bread in his hand.

 

"As people expected I suppose."  
  
“You know he wouldn’t blame you. You were just doing-”  
  
Aramis stood, sharply, leaving the table maybe a little too quickly. Treville noted it and beckoned him over to the firing range. Aramis could have sworn he felt his heart leave his chest. Slowly, he walked over, taking the pistol that Treville handed to him. He let out a soft breath as he made sure it was loaded, kneeling and aiming at the target. He narrowed his eyes, took a breath in and as he exhaled, pulled the trigger. The shot was loud, not what he was expecting and he jolted forward as he heard Porthos screaming. His own scream erupted from his throat as he watched his lover collapse to the ground once more.  
  
Aramis looked up at a pale-faced and obviously worried Athos, Treville kneeling slightly behind him, hand on Aramis’ knee. He swallowed and nodded at the hushed whisper of his well being before shakily standing up. Suddenly, he was painfully aware of everyone staring at him. d’Artagnan was here, holding a hand out, saying something about a walk. Aramis shook his head and made his way to a bench to sit down, staring at the ground. He looked up to ask Athos to sit with him, only to see him and Treville glancing at him and murmuring... Of course, they thought he had killed Porthos purposely.  
  
//  
  
 _“The food here sucks.”  
  
“The food here is pretty good.”  
  
Aramis rose an eyebrow as he peered up at Porthos, chuckling a little bit.  
  
“You just like food.”  
  
Porthos shrugged and continued to butter a mammoth slice of bread. Aramis was always amazed at the amount of food his friend could eat, no matter where he was or what was happening, Porthos always seemed to find time for food.  
  
“Treville called Athos into his office a long time ago. Do you think he’s prepping him for a mission.”  
  
“I reckon we’ll be called in soon. ‘Follow Athos. I don’t trust him out on his own.’”  
  
Aramis laughed and slid a little closer to Porthos.  
  
“You know we can trust everyone here, don’t you?”  
  
Porthos stopped shovelling food into his mouth and watched Aramis’ face for any sign of anything.  
  
“Are you suggesting what I think you are?”  
  
“You know I am.”  
  
Porthos hesitated before his hand reached out, sliding around the back of Aramis’ neck, tugging him closer to press their lips together. The normal sounds of the garrison went silent as everyone’s eyes stared at them. There was the faint thudding of feet on wood as Treville and Athos came running out to discover the source of the silence. Aramis was sure he could hear the chuckling from Athos and Porthos pulled back a little, glancing up at them.  
  
“Ok so who bet they were together and who didn’t?”  
  
Porthos roared with laughter whilst Aramis blushed darkly, hiding his face in Porthos’ shoulder.  
  
_ //  
  
Aramis looked up as the old memory sprung to mind, jolting out of his trance. He was beginning to feel a little better. Slowly, he stretched himself out and stood, hand feeling the hilt of his sword. It felt strange – he hadn’t held it in three months. In three months, he had avoided anything to do with the Musketeers, save for Porthos’ grave. He let out a soft breath before looking around to see if anyone was using the sword play zone. Two Musketeers were staring at him before looking back at each other, snickering a little. Bile rose in Aramis’ throat making him turn on his heel, sheath his sword and stalk out the garrison.  
  
Athos cried out after him but he shook it off, ignoring him. His steps were the only thing he allowed himself to hear. The cold air was harsh on his lungs, but it was welcome. It was a _distraction_. Yet the distraction wasn’t enough and he soon felt tear drops slipping down his cheeks.  
  
//  
  
Athos walked into the tavern much later that night, thoughts still on Aramis. Surely, the fact that he couldn’t even shoot a gun without having some sort of breakdown would be enough for Treville to merit him some more time off. He may look it, but Aramis was definitely not ready to be back in training. Athos sighed and made his way to the bar, ordering his usual.  
  
“Your friend came in earlier than usual.”  
  
Athos’ ears pricked up and he looked over at the table in the corner where he had nodded. Aramis was there, obviously drunk. A soft sigh escaped Athos’ lips and he put some coins on the bar.  
  
“Forget pouring me a drink. Keep the change.”  
  
Athos made his way over and sat down next to Aramis, staying silent as he allowed Aramis to take in who he was and why he might be there.  
  
“It’s all I can hear... Porthos’ scream as the bullet I fired tore him apart. I hear him... Saying he hates me. That it’s my fault. And some of the Musketeers blame me. It’s obvious. They hate me. I took out a good man. It should be me buried six feet under.”  
  
Athos snarled at the tone of self-pity coming from Aramis. This wasn’t right. This was _not_ his friend. Athos stood, grabbing Aramis’ arm and yanking him up.  
  
“Time to go home. You’ve had enough to drink today.”  
  
“I’ve barely start-”  
  
“ _Home_!”  
  
It was a barked order and Aramis was too use to military protocol to argue. Dejectedly, he hung his head and allowed Athos to walk him out the tavern and down the street.  
  
//  
  
Silently, Athos helped Aramis dress down to his small clothes, laying him down.  
  
“Please stay...”  
  
Athos looked back from the door.  
  
“Nightmares... They plague me. The landlady doesn’t always hear me.”  
  
Athos merely nodded and sunk into the arm chair in the corner of the room, tilting his hat over his eyes.  
  
“Goodnight, my brother.”  
  
“Goodnight, Athos.”  
  
//  
  
Aramis stared down at the wall. Porthos was chained in position, snarling at the firing squad in front of him. Slowly, Aramis looked around. Something wasn’t right. Why was Porthos facing execution by firing squad? Why weren’t the firing squad aiming their guns at Porthos?  
  
Aramis took a step forward, breathing slowly as he went down the steps. Porthos’ eyes stared into his, and Aramis was shocked to see a look of hatred in his eyes. Aramis swallowed the lump in his throat before looking around to realise that he firing squad had moved out of the way. He stared at the gap in the middle of them and looked at the Red Guard holding a pistol out to him. Aramis tried not to but he found his hand reaching out to take the gun.  
  
“I trusted you. I loved you. You lied to me.”  
  
“Porthos no... No, I love you. I don’t understand what’s happening.”  
  
As though his hand were moving through mud, it jerked out to a right angle from his body, and Aramis realised what was happening.  
  
“No! No, I can’t do this!”  
  
Porthos was starting to fight against the chains.  
  
“I’ll kill you Aramis.”  
  
The words stuck knives in his heart and Aramis felt his finger tense on the trigger.  
  
“Not if I kill you first.”  
  
Yet the words were not his, and neither was the angry tone they spat out in. The gun shot fired out and Aramis screamed.  
  
//  
  
“Aramis! Aramis wake up!”  
  
Aramis shot upright on the bed, breathing heavily, sweat-drenched, staring at Athos sitting next to him.  
  
“’Twas just a dream... Breathe Aramis.”  
  
A shaking hand reached out to take the flagon of water Athos was holding out. Aramis sipped at it for a little while before leaning back against the head rest.  
  
“What was it about..?”  
  
“I was... Porthos... He was being executed by firing squad. But they weren’t shooting him and no matter... No matter how hard I tried not to, they made me shoot him. He said...He said I never loved him and...”  
  
Tears poured thick and fast down Aramis’ cheeks. Athos hesitated before reaching forward to pull him into a hug.  
  
“You know that’s not true.”  
  
“I should have been more aware of my surroundings.”  
  
“It was an _accident_.”  
  
Athos hissed the word with such ferocity that Aramis dared not to reply. He merely shrugged instead, running a hand through his hair as Athos released him.  
  
“Please stay the night... I can’t... I can’t stay sane without someone here.”  
  
“You know I will be here. Go back to sleep. It was merely a dream.”  
  
Athos stood, heading over to a small tray that the landlady must have been bought in earlier. Aramis lay down but didn’t close his eyes, watching Athos’ hands wet a rag before he came over. Delicately, Athos dabbed the cold cloth against Aramis’ raging forehead. He smiled weakly up at him.  
  
“I promise, I won’t go anywhere. Go back to sleep.”  
  
Aramis nodded and lay down, letting his exhausted eyes slip closed. Athos sighed and let his hand drift across Aramis’ cheek. He knew how hard it was to sleep without alcohol but that was one hole Athos refused to let his friend fall into.  
  
//  
  
The next time Aramis awoke, the sun was shining and he could hear the streets of Paris as they woke up and began their daily business. A soft groan escaped his lips as he sat up, looking around the room. Athos wasn’t here. Had he left during the night or in the morning? No doubt, Aramis was late to the garrison. He stretched out, wincing as some of his bones cracked before he rose, rubbing his head. There was such a pounding inside, he wasn’t sure if there was some creature in his skull, trying to find its way out. Carefully, and as quickly as he could manage, Aramis tugged his uniform on before making his way downstairs.  
  
Athos was in the kitchen, enjoying some breakfast as he stared out the window. Aramis’ footsteps must have caught his attention because his eyes flickered to the doorway. He smiled, rising from his chair and finishing the bread and butter in his hand.  
  
“Ready for training?”  
  
Aramis merely groaned and grabbed his hat and cloak, on the pegs by the door where Athos must have moved them the night before. Athos chuckled and walked by, patting Aramis on the back.  
  
//  
  
Athos was driving his sword painfully against Aramis’, the cold clanging of steel the only thing audible to them both as they fought against each other. Athos let out a chuckle as his blade narrowly missed Aramis’ wrists, being deflected by a quick jerk of the arm, sliding into the leather and avoiding skin. Aramis smirked at Athos and d’Artagnan let out a cheer. They pulled back, Athos allowing Aramis to refit his cuff, wiping his blade free of spare fabric. It was then Aramis heard Porthos laughing, and he froze, fingers still entwined with string. Slowly, he looked up and around, searching for his tall lover, head back, chest heaving magnificently as that laughter filled the garrison. He could hear someone talking, Athos maybe, and he could see d’Artagnan and Treville staring at him in confusion.  
  
“Aramis? Are you alright?”  
  
Aramis’ brown eyes slowly moved to stare into Athos’ baby blues, which widened when he saw the tears pooling.  
  
“Did I hurt you?”  
  
“No no. I just... I thought I heard Porthos...”  
  
His voice cracked as he spoke, tears beginning to fall down his cheeks once more. Treville sighed softly.  
  
“Obviously, we’re working you too hard... Aramis go home. Rest up. But you’ll stay later tomorrow.”  
  
The Musketeer nodded, fingers swiftly finishing lacing his cuff before he sheathed his sword, striding off as confidently as he could allow himself to.  
  
//  
  
Aramis was staring into the dregs of a wine bottle, grimacing. He was confused, surely he hadn’t drunken that much already? But maybe he had. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he signalled for another one. He leant back and threw his head back, finishing the bottle before he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. The tavern keeper came over, putting the bottle on the table and waiting for the payment. Before Aramis could even move for his money pouch, a few coins were dropped to the table.  
  
“There ya are.”  
  
The keeper nodded and took the coins, disappearing once more.  
  
“Thank you, thank you but please allow me to pay you back... Monsieur..?”  
  
“Olivier. Thomas Olivier.”  
  
Aramis grinned at him.  
  
“I don’t think we’ve ever been acquainted.”  
  
“Aramis of the King’s Musketeers.”  
  
Thomas held his hand out, and Aramis slowly shook it.  
  
“Don’t bother about repaying me. You look like you need a drink.”  
  
“You have no idea.”  
  
Aramis lifted the bottle of wine in the air before allowing himself a few sips as Thomas drank his beer.  
  
“So why are you here?”  
  
“Here being where, Musketeer?”  
  
“Paris. I don’t recognise you.”  
  
“I have unfinished business. With a Musketeer actually. A drop in, if you like.”  
  
Aramis nodded.  
  
“May I ask which one?”  
  
“Athos. Athos de La Fère.”  
  
Aramis nodded again.  
  
“He’s a friend of mine.”  
  
Thomas chuckled.  
  
“Small world I suppose.”  
  
“You could say that.”  
  
They were silent again before Thomas cleared his throat.  
  
“Monsieur, do you have a woman in your life?”  
  
“Women are not my... Expertise.”  
  
“They are a mystery, are they not?”  
  
Aramis narrowed his eyes at the man sitting opposite him for a few seconds.  
  
“Are you insinuating what I think you are?”  
  
“Why else would a stranger buy someone a drink?”  
  
Aramis’ frowned a little, working through the fuzz in his mind before his eyes went wide.  
  
“ _Oh._ ”  
  
“Monsieur, you are exquisite-”  
  
“Thomas, everyone I get close to, love or not, dies. Do yourself a favour and distance yourself from me. Thank you, but no thank you.”  
  
Thomas shrugged a little and stood, nodding his head in farewell before he moved off to the bar. The seat was filled in seconds and Aramis looked up at Athos.  
  
“Who was that?”  
  
“A sodomite who thought I was exquisite.”  
  
Athos chuckled softly before shrugging, smile dropping straight away.  
  
“I heard what you said about yourself.”  
  
Aramis’ shoulders slumped and Athos glared slightly before slapping him.  
  
“Just stop feeling sorry for yourself.”  
  
Aramis glared at him.  
  
“I’m not feeling sorry for myself. I’m feeling sorry for Porthos, the _lover_ that I _shot_ and _killed_. Is that alright for you? The only difference between us is that mine was an accident.”  
  
Anger shot through Athos but at the same time, happiness. At least Aramis was referring to it as an accident now.  
  
“I know it’s difficult, believe me, I know. But you’re getting through it Aramis and you have all the Musketeers to help you. Constance as well. I dare say even the Queen has been worried for you.”  
  
Aramis merely stared at Athos from under his eyes lids before stumbling out the tavern.  
  
//  
  
Athoshad risen earlier than normal that morning. With a groan, he stood, shaking his head a little to clear the slight fog in his mind. He stretched out, grinning at the feeling as he got up, dressing quickly. Luckily for him, he hadn’t drunken too much last night, allowing himself to be slightly quick-witted that morning. Within minutes, Athos had his uniform on, hat perched at an angle on his head and his weapons strapped to his body before leaving for the garrison.  
  
//  
  
Athos was there early, and of course, so were the few new recruits hoping to get some training in. d’Artagnan was also there, practicing his shooting. He gave Athos a nod as he went by, moving to the stabled and calling his horse over. She was a magnificent beast, really, whinnying softly as Athos ran his hand down her snout. He smiled softly, moving to get a brush to beginning cleaning her fur. He was lost in the moment when silence rang out, louder than a warning yell. He looked over to see Aramis, stumbling into the garrison. His jacket was missing, and his normally tanned face was pale and blushed. His shirt was undone, almost to his waist and he was having trouble putting one foot in front of the other. He stumbled to the side and d’Artagnan moved to help him, only to stop moving at a shout.  
  
“Aramis, my office. Everyone else, stay where you are.”  
  
No one dared to disobey a direct order from Treville. Except Athos who moved once Aramis was on the stairs. He moved quickly, slowly going up behind him in case Aramis fell. Hopefully, he could convince Treville not to take too harsh an action against his disgraced brother.  
  
//  
  
“Drunk! Do you even know your name?”  
  
Aramis swayed dangerously on his feet and Athos sat up from the edge of Treville’s desk to help steady him. The man gave a drunken hiccup before looking away.  
  
“This is the kind of behaviour I expect from Athos, not you. No offence Athos.”  
  
Athos merely shrugged, making sure to keep Aramis supported. Treville sighed and looked away.  
  
“Obviously, this affected you way more than we thought it originally did. I can’t give you any more bereavement time... If I could, I would, straight away.”  
  
Athos stared at Treville, shaking his head a little.  
  
“Aramis I need your fleur de lies. Until you recover, you are no longer a Musketeer. Once you’re fully recovered, you may rejoin the ranks, but until then... I’m sorry.”  
  
Aramis pitched forward, obviously in shock. It took Athos a few seconds to get him back on his feet before the Lieutenant slowly moved around to unlace the armour from his shoulder. Aramis watched him in shock and confusion before Treville motioned for Athos to help him home.  
  
//  
  
As they reached the bottom of the steps, Aramis began crying. It was pathetic, really. Porthos was gone and now he had lost his commission. Really, what did he have left? The way Aramis’ head shot to the side with a stinging feeling in his cheek and the way Athos began yelling at him had Aramis realising he had said that out loud. He moved to watch Athos, the sharp slap having bought him to his senses slightly. He could see Treville on the balcony, looking shocked as he stared down at the men below, and all the Musketeers in the garrison were staring. No one had ever seen Athos slap someone before, much less someone he considered his brother.  
  
“How dare you. How _dare_ you. You’re over reacting to all of this- _don’t you dare interrupt me_.”  
  
Aramis shut his open mouth quickly.  
  
“Yes you lost Porthos. Yes, you _accidentally_ shot him but this is ridiculous. All you are doing is wallowing in self-pity and we’ve had enough. I know I sound like a hypocrite but at least I keep my private life and my work life separate. You are going to go home, sober up and start practicing your sword work. You may still not be ready to return to the garrison but I swear, you had better be able to use a sword when you come back.”  
  
He fell silent and Aramis stood there merely staring at him.  
  
“ _As your Lieutenant I command you to do what I say._ ”  
  
Aramis merely nodded and turned on his heel, with less difficultly than before, stalking out the garrison; Athos’ words were heavy on his heart, stinging more than the slap to his cheek.  
  
//  
  
Aramis had seen Athos at the Palace that day, following the King around in his ever silent presence. Guard duty. It wasn’t something the group were particularly fond of, but it was something that Athos and his comrades took seriously. If they messed up, the King and Queen could be assassinated.  He had tried to get hold of d’Artagnan, but Aramis had been told by what he could only assume to be his replacement, that d’Artagnan had been sent on a solo mission. Aramis walked dejectedly back through the streets, staring at the floor as he did.  
  
How had this all happened?  
  
How had he let himself get so bad?  
  
Why was he so reliant on wine to get himself through the days?  
  
A sigh escaped his lips as he made his way to the stall in the market that sold alcohol. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea; he had rent to pay and limited income coming in., but at that moment in time, Aramis didn’t care. He bought around seven bottles – there could have been eight, he wasn’t sure – and headed straight back to his lodgings to divulge in his only escape.  
  
//  
  
Hours. Hours of drinking. Hours of burying memories of a love now lost in alcohol. Aramis wasn’t sure what hour it was at all, all he knew was that the moon was out and it was a wonderful night for a stroll.  
  
It was peaceful, really. The night wasn’t too cold or too warm and there weren’t that many people around.  
  
Sweet.  
  
Until he realised the path he was walking was a path he had walked down many times before, hand-in-hand with Porthos.  
  
The guilt rose quicker than a determined enemy in battle and bile tried to force its way up Aramis’ throat. He swallowed it down and continued to walk. Maybe a trip down memory lane was something that he needed to go down. Maybe, just maybe, it would actually help.  
  
Or maybe it would succeed on sending him deeper down the void he was stuck in.  
  
The void seemed much more likely as Aramis stood on the banks of the River Seine, staring at the crystal water, reflecting the moon and hundreds of stars. Tears began to stream down Aramis’ face yet again as he remembered all the times he and his friends had swum here. How many times Porthos had thrown him in before cannonballing in next to him, only to surface and tug him close for an elongated kiss that had the other’s yelling for them to find a boarding room.  
  
Too many memories.  
  
Too much guilt.  
  
Without a second thought, Aramis leant forward and allowed himself to fall into the freezing water.  
  
//  
  
At first, he struggled around, surfacing and gasping for air before gently laying on his back. The Moon was so bright, it was almost as if the night had been made for this. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he thought of Porthos once more before he exhaled, allowing his body to sink under the water.  
  
Even here, with a few feet of water between him and the sky, the Moon was still beautiful, the stars all shining just like Porthos’ smile. Aramis cracked a smile. He didn’t want to think about anything other than him. Soon, just in a few more minutes, Aramis would finally be in the arms of the man he loved once more.  
  
He thought he heard someone calling his name, but, the chances of that were unlikely. No one would miss him. As Athos had said, they all despised him for his self-pity. At least now they wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore.  
  
Closing his eyes, Aramis inhaled deeply. Reopening his eyes as his lungs began to burn, he smiled. His vision began to darken. A rush of bubbles was the last thing he saw.  
  
//  
  
Athos wrapped his arms around Aramis, swimming back to the surface as fast as he could. The King was there, shock written on his face as Athos resurfaced. He was spluttering, struggling with Aramis’ body. Louis moved forwards, silently helping Athos out of the water with him, laying him on the grass. The Musketeer took no more than a few seconds to catch his breath before kneeling by Aramis, fists pounding on his chest, desperately trying to get Aramis to cough the water up from his lungs.  
  
“Aramis... Aramis please. Please you cannot die... I refuse to allow you to die.”  
  
Tears were streaming down Athos’ face as his fists slammed harder. He looked up at the entourage the King had before his eyes fell on a Red Guard.  
  
“Go fetch Captain Treville and tell him the matter is of the uttermost importance. **_Now_**.”  
  
He nodded and turned, beginning to run. Athos turned his full attention to Aramis, sobs racking his body.  
  
“Come on Aramis... Come on, don’t do this to me...”  
  
//  
  
 _Aramis slowly sat up, groaning a little. He shivered softly, the cold water soaking him causing a chill. Carefully, he stood up. It was a feat in itself, his lungs were on fire, but somehow, he managed it. Looking around, Aramis was confused when he couldn’t see the Seine. A whole river didn’t just disappear. It was then he realised it was just green around him. A bright mint green that caused him to squint his eyes and look around. Could this be the bottom of the river bank? Surely not, he could breathe.  
  
Footsteps echoed out and Aramis looked behind him.  
  
His heart stopped.  
  
“Porthos..?”  
  
A soft laugh escaped Aramis’ lips and he turned to face his lover.  
  
“Aramis what the hell are you doing here..?”  
  
“Where is this?”  
  
“I guess you could call it purgatory. I’ve been here since I died... But why are you **here** god damn?”  
  
“I don’t...”  
  
Slowly, bit by bit, it came back to him.  
  
“I threw myself in the Seine. I couldn’t bear life without you for another minute. I was inhaling water. I think... I’m dead.”  
  
“No. I’m not letting this happen.”  
  
The tone of Porthos’ voice made Aramis stare at him, scared to see his lover scowling at him, glaring daggers.  
  
“You’re not dying. Not today.”  
  
“But Porthos, I want to be with-”  
  
Aramis was cut off by Porthos roar of anger. He fell silent.  
  
“I don’t care what you want. I don’t want you here.” He paused for a moment. “I don’t want my murderer here.”  
  
Aramis felt his heart stop and then, all too suddenly, Athos’ voice pierced through his conscious.  
  
“Aramis, wake up **please**_. _”  
  
Shakily, Aramis turned away from his lover, giving out a yell as he began to fall through the floor.  
  
_ //  
  
Athos gave a sob of relief as Aramis’ body began to jerk slightly, coughing water up and spluttering. Treville motioned for the people around him to back up, moving back himself as Aramis’ weakly opened.  
  
“What... What happened?”  
  
“You threw yourself into the Seine. Idiot.”  
  
Using Athos to keep himself steady, Aramis slowly sat up. Athos watched him, making sure to help support him before slowly pulling back, sure he would be alright.  
  
Once he was sure that Aramis wouldn’t fall again, Athos’ hand shot out, slapping against Aramis’ cheek – hard enough to leave a bruise. A yelp fell from the man and he stared angrily up at Athos before giving a surprised yelp as he was tugged into one of the fiercest hugs he had ever experienced.  
  
“Don’t you _ever_ do that again... I thought I’d lost you. We all thought we had lost you. Damn it, Aramis, don’t you dare do that again or I’ll kill you myself.”  
  
Aramis smiled weakly, guiltily. He came to the realization that he was shivering and looked around. Treville moved forward to wrap his cape around Aramis’ shoulders before stepping back.  
  
“Your Majesty, if you will permit it, I would like to give Athos the night off. I will see to your protection myself.”  
  
Louis nodded.  
  
“I think that very well may be in order. Aramis, I hope you fare better. Let us leave them.”  
  
Athos watched them walk off before shifting to hold Aramis up, beginning to walk him home. They were silent, except for Aramis’ sniffling. It wasn’t until they were nearly half way there that Athos cleared his throat.  
  
“Why did you come back?”  
  
“I’m not sure. I remember... Porthos was there and I swore he was going to have a heart attack when he saw me... And we were talking and he refused to talk to me and then... He said he didn’t want to be in the same place as his _murderer_. His murderer, Athos. He blames me fully.”  
  
“No he doesn’t. Do you really think Porthos wants the man he loves to die prematurely when he’s not meant to be dead? Porthos merely said that to shock you and bring you back to reality. You know that as well as I do.”  
  
Aramis nodded a little before shuffling to head down his street.  
  
“No no, you’re coming to my quarters where I can keep a better eye on you.”  
  
Aramis grinned weakly before letting his head drop, allowing Athos to guide him there.  
  
//  
  
Aramis looked around the room with interest, even though he tried not to. He had changed into spare small clothes of Athos’; they were slightly big but they were definitely warm and an improvement on his soaking clothes. Athos chuckled, watching Aramis’ wandering eyes as he walked in with a bowl of steaming soup.  
  
“My land lady isn’t too pleased, being woken in the early hours to see to you.”  
  
Aramis grinned weakly and took the bowl, slowly blowing on the contents. Athos moved to lean in his window, staring out at the near silent streets below. Aramis began counting. How long would it take Athos to-  
  
“Why?”  
  
 _Seven seconds_.  
  
“Why did you do it Aramis? I know you feel guilty and that it’s hard to move on when you lose someone you love but...”  
  
“I don’t know. I was drunk and it seemed like a good idea at the time...”  
  
“You have friends who love you, Aramis. People who can help you get through this, yet, you’ve been pushing us away. You would rather let your own emotions rule your head then to admit to other’s you are feeling weak and need comfort. You refuse to... And we now refuse to allow you to do that. Someone will be with you, no matter what. Don’t take by my example. Besides, did you really think _Porthos_ and _Adele_ would allow you to die? They’ll drag you back to Earth the moment you set foot in the afterlife.”  
  
Aramis allowed himself a laugh.  
  
“True, I suppose.”  
  
They fell silent as Aramis began to sip the soup. It was hot, maybe a little too hot, but the scalding liquid pouring down his throat was more than enough to ground him. He allowed his mind to wander – what would have happened if he had died tonight? Athos and d’Artagnan would be beside themselves. Treville might even mourn. And his afterlife would be unbearable due to his previous lovers refusing to allow him entrance.  
  
After a few more sips, having eaten half the bowl, he set it down on the side, before looking up at Athos.  
  
“Pray Athos, would you lay with me? It gets... Gets a little lonely.”  
  
Athos smiled and nodded, moving to strip down to his own small clothes. He stretched a little before blowing the candle out, slipping into the bed. His arms encircled Aramis’ slim waist and tugged him close. Aramis settled down, smiling a little as his eyes flickered close. Exhaustion was close, but he had something unsettled he needed to make sure Athos knew of.  
  
“You understand that d’Artagnan has a little crush on you.”  
  
Athos shifted a little so he could hear Aramis better.  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
“d’Artagnan. Crush. You.”  
  
“That’s ridiculous. He’s not a sodomite.”  
  
“Oh so I suppose I’m imaging when he laughs a little too much at your jokes, or watches your behind closely when you train, or how he bites his lip ever so slightly whenever you compliment him or sit too close.”  
  
Athos lay back down.  
  
“Go to sleep Aramis.”  
  
“You know it’s true. And it’s obvious that you like him, also. Do something about it Athos. Don’t let good things pass you by.”  
  
A soft punch landed into the back of his shoulder, causing Aramis to laugh before he settle down, letting exhaustion take him over.  
  
// _A week later_ //  
  
Athos and Aramis were in the tavern, drinking to Aramis’ reinstated Musketeer status. They grinned and downed their flagons each before setting them on the table.  
  
“It’s good to see you with colour in your cheeks.”  
  
“Oh, well, having your dead lover tell you that you need to be alive really does something to a person.”  
  
Athos chuckled and leant back in his chair. That was very true, he mused, as he reflected on what had happened in the past week. The moment Aramis had risen, he had practiced his sword work before earlier that day, he proved to Treville that he was on the mend. He still had issues shooting, but anyone would. Aramis seemed his old self as he sat and looked around the tavern. His yelling caused Athos to jump before spotting d’Artagnan. The yell had caused d’Artagnan’s head to shoot round, only to remove his hand from the hilt of his sword as he made his way over.  
  
“Finally back from the country, eh?”  
  
“You know I am. Treville filled me in on everything that happened...” d’Artagnan’s hand rested on Aramis’ shoulder.  
  
“You alright, buddy?”  
  
Aramis nodded up at him and smiled softly.  
  
“Doing much better, thank you.”  
  
“I also hear that you are a Musketeer once again.”  
  
“You hear correctly.”  
  
d’Artagnan laughed and sat next to Athos, who peered at the young boy sideways. Was what Aramis said the truth? He was about to say something before his eyes caught someone out of the corner of his eyes.  
  
“Thomas Olivier!”  
  
He stood up with a laugh and moved to the man to hug him. Aramis felt his eyebrows rising.  
  
“Why, this is the man who I was talking to a week or so ago!”  
  
“I know he is.”  
  
The two men grinned at each other and d’Artagnan noted the similarities in their faces; how their eyes were the same colour, the exact same shade of blue...  
  
“Are you two related?”  
  
“Thomas is my brother.”  
  
Aramis and d’Artagnan stared at Athos.  
  
“Milady killed your brother...”  
  
“No, Thomas faked his death so I realised what she was like. He approached me recently and we discussed it. He never meant to stay away for so long.”  
  
Thomas sat down at the table and Aramis rose his eyebrow again.  
  
“But your surname isn’t Olivier...”  
  
“My full name is Comte Olivier d’Athos de La Fère.”  
  
d’Artagnan snorted a little and Athos turned to look at his brother before motioning for him and d’Artagnan to fetch more drinks. Athos watched closely as Thomas settled down and began, obviously, flirting with Aramis. A smile spread across the two Musketeers faces as they realised that Aramis was flirting back, even if it was slightly awkwardly. It would take him a long time but, slowly, Aramis would eventually learn to love again and Athos had no complaints about it being his brother – at least Aramis and he would actually be brothers. Athos leant on the wooden bar as he watched d’Artagnan as he kicked the floor.  
  
“You know, Aramis told me something the other night.”  
  
“Oh yeah? What night would that have been?”  
  
“The first night you were out on your solo mission.”  
  
d’Artagnan looked up at him, and Athos was sure he caught a glimpse of a smile.  
  
“What did he tell you?”  
  
“That you had developed a fancying for me.”  
  
d’Artagnan’s turned bright red.  
  
“So it is true.”  
  
Athos chuckled a little and shifted ever so slightly closer.  
  
“A little bit, yea.”  
  
Athos took his chance. He reached out, cupping d’Artagnan’s cheek and turning him to face him. He moved, pressing their lips together softly.  
  
d’Artagnan’s eyes widened slightly as he stood there, motionless before ever so gently pressing his lips back against Athos’ perfectly chapped ones. They pulled away for a moment; Athos searching the younger’s face for any kind of emotion. A smile pulled at his lips when he realised that d’Artagnan was smiling up at him, moving to wrap run his hands down the elder’s arms. The sound of applauding went up and they both turned to see Thomas and Aramis clapping and cheering. They grinned and grabbed the drinks before making their way back to the table. They all took a drink and crashed the glasses together.  
  
“All for one, and one for all!”


End file.
